


The Glass Sun

by SneakyBunyip



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars The Force Awakens, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017), star wars the last jedi
Genre: Alliances, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hux is perplexed, Post-TLJ Hux, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Thrawn being Thrawn, Thrawn being Thrawn helps Hux not be broken, hux is broken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneakyBunyip/pseuds/SneakyBunyip
Summary: Hux lost everything the day Supreme Leader Ren came into power. Now an outcast in his own empire, Hux finds an unexpected guest at his door that could turn the tide in his favor.





	The Glass Sun

It was supposed to be a celebration - a galactic parade to honor the new Supreme Leader of the First Order.

To General Armitage Hux, however, it was nothing more than a funeral procession, heralding the death of own his career. 

Supreme Leader Ren’s capital ship, the Mega-Class Star Dreadnought known as  _ Vader’s Revenge _ , floated through the endless starscape, its dark mass seeming to swallow up the glittering stars themselves as it moved. Hundreds of thousands of TIE fighters swarmed around it like angry hornets, performing acrobatic tricks for Ren’s entertainment. Meanwhile, every ship in the First Order was ordered to line the dreadnought’s path.

All except one.

The  _ Finalizer _ stood alone far from the festivities, its separation from the rest of the navy sending a statement to the rest of the galaxy: Ren ruled alone. Hux was no longer a working cog in the machine.

Hux watched the parade from afar, through the viewport of his secluded office aboard the  _ Finalizer. _ There was a shameful part of him that felt grateful he had been banished in such a manner _. _

Hux was tired.

For years he had fought an uphill battle against a pair of Force-users that would prefer wizardry over logic to rule the galaxy. 

When Snoke died, Hux had hoped a balance could be restored between he and Ren. 

It was clear now, that sorcery would always win over logic, and now Hux found himself to be a rabid cur with no teeth left to bite.

Hux caught his own reflection in the viewport and cringed.

He was beginning to look like his father. Perhaps not in stature nor in heft, but in the sheer exhaustion of it all. Towards the end, Snoke had run his father down as surely as Ren was draining him.

_ Brendol must be laughing at my disgrace...wherever he is. _

Hux’s gloved hand touched his pale cheek, his fingers running beneath the bags of his red-rimmed eyes, tell-tale of his lack of sleep since Starkiller’s destruction.

Deep lines had since appeared on his face, far deeper than a man of thirty-six should possess. His cheeks were sunken, sharpening his bone structure, and making his once youthful appearance look aged and severe. 

His eyebrows had grown bushy without proper grooming and his once radiant orange hair hung limp, half-heartedly styled with strands falling over his forehead, starving for product and a proper combing.

This was not Armitage Hux staring back at him. 

This was a broken man with no future.

Armitage Hux died with Starkiller Base. 

_ Perhaps it is better this way… _

Hux turned away from the viewport, unable to stomach his own reflection let alone the jubilation going on without him.

He approached his desk, an obsidian half-moon table fixed with a holo projector and three wide panels filled with messages, schematics and orders that he did not wish to address just yet.

Still, he stood over the panels, running a gloved hand over the high-back chair, arguably his favorite chair in the galaxy.

He had it fashioned to be an exact replica of Grand Moff Tarkin’s chair aboard the Death Star. It was of a single sheet of plastoid, curved and ergonomic with a keyhole design on its back and sans arm rests. 

He was very proud of his chair. 

What he was less proud of was the art piece placed on the left side of his chair: a cobalt stem holding up a bright yellow disk of blown glass. Dozens of thick corkscrew wires jutted out of the disk like orange rays of a golden sun.

Hux loathed this artistic eyesore.

If he had it his way, the general’s office would have been blissfully empty save for his beloved chair, his moon-shaped desk and the lesser chairs on the other side of it. 

The statue was Snoke’s doing.

And Ren had decreed the statue would remain in his honor.

It was not a fight he could win.

_ Like so many these days… _

A low series of beeps sounded from the central panel of his desk announcing more messages coming into his personal inbox.

He knew most of those messages demanded an explanation from him. Admirals, captains, superior officers of every rank asking their general for guidance, for an explanation, for leadership. 

Hux was not ready to address them.

Not while the bruises on his neck were still fresh. 

On another panel, the First Order newsfeed continued to play Ren’s inaugural speech. 

The new Supreme Leader stood on the bridge of  _ Vader’s Revenge  _ in a full cape of shimmering black fabric, a dark tunic to match and silver accents adorning his collar and cuffs. He was free of that ridiculous mask Hux detested, but without it, Ren was free to bare his power-hungry, unbridled fury for the whole galaxy to see. 

_ “I am Supreme Leader,” _ Ren shouted across the holonet.  _ “The only orders you have to follow are mine!”  _ He slammed a fist against his chest as if to emphasize his authority somehow.  _ “You will obey me or you will be destroyed!” _

Hux’s eyes drifted to the broken creature that had been standing several feet behind Supreme Leader Ren as he spoke. 

He barely recognized himself. 

The defeated general’s hair was unkempt. His throat was bright red and steadily growing purple. The cut on his lip still wept. 

Kylo Ren spent ten minutes gloating about his dominance over the galaxy like a child in a tantrum. He all but stomped his foot when he expressed his fury that the Resistance was still out there. 

He had blamed the failure on General Hux. 

And General Hux had not lifted his gaze to protest.

Hux quietly shut off the recording. 

His fingers had barely lifted from the power button when a soft tone announced a visitor.

Hux closed his eyes. 

He was sure it was Lieutenant Mitaka, most likely the officer pushed to ask the questions his crew was burning to know. Somehow Mitaka was always goaded into such dangerous assignments. 

Hux truly wished to avoid all of his subordinates today. 

At least until he had healed.

_ I will never recover from this… _

A second tone announced the visitor’s impatience.

Hux frowned. He had never known Mitaka to be so eager to face the General alone. With irritation sharpening his nerves, Hux walked to the door and unlocked it, allowing it to hiss open. 

He expected to find a doleful eyed officer standing before him…

What he found was a ghost instead.

“General Hux. May I come in?”

For a moment, Hux did nothing.

His brain clicked off, unable to register the being that spoke his name.

_ It’s impossible. _

_ How can this be? _

_ He is dead. _

Yet, there he was: Grand Admiral Thrawn, in the flesh, as blue as the oceans of Arkanis.

Hux had met the grand admiral only once. A child of five or six, Armitage had wandered into an open conference room to find the blue-skinned alien talking to Grand Admiral Sloane and Grand Moff Tarkin in sharp tones. All three of them were legends, larger than life even to the young Hux. 

None of them noticed the boy save for Thrawn who gave him a peculiar, secretive smile before Brendol Hux had found Armitage and dragged him roughly away. 

Hux never forgot that look.

Now, thirty years later, that secretive smile appeared on the grand admiral once again.

And General Armitage Hux felt five years old again.

Thrawn did not wait for Hux to answer, and simply walked past him into the office. 

Dumbfounded, Hux did nothing but watch the chiss wander at a leisurely pace around his office, hands tucked behind his back, his expression serene. It was as if Thrawn was strolling through a museum on a quiet summer day. 

After three decades, Thrawn’s age only showed in the most subtle of ways. His piercing scarlet eyes were framed by faint creases and there was a slight looseness to his skin as gravity unsuccessfully encouraged the Chiss to show some sign of weakness. Gray streaked the edges of his blue-black mane which was combed straight back as it had been in every history text Hux had seen growing up, and a single prominent bolt of white traveled from the left side of his forehead back in the most dignified of ways. His white turtleneck and black slacks still carried an air of authority despite being casual clothes, and Hux found it difficult to not maintain a salute at his presence. 

Thrawn suddenly paused, his gaze focusing on the blown glass sun beside Hux’s desk.

The general grimaced.

Of all the legends that could have walked through his door, it had to be the one who was also an art enthusiast. If what the history datacrons said were true, the former grand admiral was analyzing Hux’s disposition based solely on that statue. And he would have been wrong. 

Before Hux could think of an adequate explanation, Thrawn spoke, turning to face Hux.

“I hope I am not intruding, but it was time for us to speak. I doubt you would recall our last meeting, as you were quite small.” Thrawn extended his hand to Hux, his arm completely stiff as if simulating the human gesture without fully comprehending its nuances. “I am Mitth’raw’nurodo, but you may call me by my core name-”

“Grand Admiral Thrawn,” Hux said, as if saying the words himself would somehow make this any less surreal. 

It did not.

“A grand admiral no longer,” Thrawn clarified, with a tight smile. “For now Thrawn will suffice.”

General Hux had always fancied himself as a man of supreme tact. He knew how to speak to the masses, how to inspire legions of stormtroopers when they needed it most, and how to charm the most stubborn of ambassadors.

None of that seemed to matter when face-to-face with Thrawn.

“Where have you been?” Hux demanded.

Thrawn arched an elegant eyebrow. “Excuse me, general?”

“You are  _ dead _ , sir. 

There was no denying the mischievous glint in Thrawn’s ruby eyes. “It appears that is not the case.”

Hux waited for a further explanation on Thrawn’s thirty-year absence.

The chiss remained silent.

Irritation flared in Hux’s ice blue eyes. “The rumors spoke of a great battle on Lothal, of renegade jedi and mythological space creatures that-”

Thrawn held up a hand. “General, I believe your time would be better spent by asking why I am here now.”

Hux let out a short breath. “Alright. Why are you here?” 

Thrawn lowered his hand, tucking it again behind his back. “I am here to advise the First Order.”

Hux’s lip curled. “Ren sent you to watch me?”

Thrawn tilted his head, his expression unchanging. 

“How did Ren know where to find you?” Hux snarled. “You disappeared without a trace. There were whispers that you had faked your own death to return to your people. Many believed you were a deserter and a coward.”

“It is a long story that has no bearing on my presence here today.” Thrawn’s expression remained serene, but the words were coated in frost. “If you do not believe my expertise will be helpful, then I shall take my leave.” 

Thrawn took a single step forward towards the door. 

General Hux held up his gloved hands. “Gra-...Thrawn, my apologies. I was raised better than to look a gift farthier in the mouth. The First Order would benefit greatly from your wisdom, but...I am afraid I’m not the one to come to for such things.”

Thrawn frowned. “You are still the General of the First Order?”

“In name, yes.”

“In name and in rank,” Thrawn added nodding to Hux’s rank plate. “You still command a flagship and your legacy is secured.”

“My legacy…” Hux spat, his starstruck wonder suddenly shattered by bitterness and regret. “My ‘legacy’ is nothing but debris and ashes orbiting a rogue sun.”

“I am not speaking of Starkiller Base, general,” Thrawn clarified. “I am speaking of your successful removal of the weak Republic. The tool in which you carried out this task is inconsequential.”

Hux stiffened. “No one remembers Grand Moff Tarkin beyond the existence of the Death Star. Why should anyone remember me beyond Starkiller’s destruction?”

“The Death Star was the grand moff’s tomb,” Thrawn retorted. “You, however, survived. I am here to ensure the First Order does not suffer the same fate as the Empire did. They repeated history once already. It should not happen again.”

Hux’s smile was mirthless. “I have no plans to build a second Starkiller.”

Thrawn returned the smirk. “That is good to hear.”

The air seemed to ease between them. 

Hux extended a hand. “Please...sit.”

Hux half-expected Thrawn to take the high-back seat behind his own desk, but instead Thrawn chose to sit in one of the smaller chairs.

Hux sat at full attention, his posture perfect, hands folded and resting on the desk.

Thrawn slouched. The chiss sat with his knees spread wide, his arms resting on his thighs and his back hunched as if accustomed to being too tall for most furniture.

Hux held back his judgmental frown and sat a little straighter. “What did Ren inform you of our situation?”

“You are stretched thin, General Hux,” Thrawn commented, his eyes drifting back to the sunny statue beside Hux. “To quote my previous aide, your “eggs” appear to all be in one “basket” and with the Resistance still out there, it is unwise to be so gathered.”

Hux waited for Thrawn’s gaze to return to him before responding.

...and after a moment he realized Thrawn was not going to cease studying that blasted statue anytime soon.

“The Resistance is all but destroyed and those who are left are vastly outnumbered. We have been assured that their greatest ally, Luke Skywalker, is dead. With him gone, so dies their beacon of hope. There is nothing that stands in our way to restore order to the galaxy.” 

Hux realized far too late that he was merely regurgitating the speech he had written for the day he would become Supreme Leader. 

The words felt hollow, despite the air of conviction he put forth.

“You do not believe that,” Thrawn said, flatly. 

Hux leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Do not presume you know me, Thrawn.” 

“I do not presume anything, general,” Thrawn replied, his voice light and veiled in innocence. His eyes drifted to the statue. “Art can be quite revealing of an individual’s personality, their motives, their...aspirations.”

Hux bristled. “I hate to disappoint you, but the artwork is not mine.”

“I am not speaking of the art forced upon you by your former Supreme Leader. I am speaking of  _ your _ art.” Thrawn gestured to the three chairs around his desk.   
Hux held back his surprise with a carefully lowered brow.

Thrawn continued, “Note the style of your chair. It is obviously a replica of the Imperial-style seen on the Death Star. I, myself, have sat among such a chair many times, often occupied by Grand Moff Tarkin. And these two chairs,” Thrawn nodded to the empty chair beside him, “also replicas from the original Death Star, however, this is not merely out of aesthetic. These chairs are uncomfortable. They are shorter than yours by ten centimeters, despite the fact that the official schematics for all three chairs claim equal height. As a result, those who come to your office have either the option of sitting in chairs far lower than yours, or must stand while you remain seated. The grand moff used this tactic to keep subordinates off their guard.”

Thrawn paused as if to allow Hux to respond. 

Hux, however, was speechless.

Thrawn continued. “You are mindful of the past, General Hux. You long for the Empire’s glory days, and you took its downfall to heart. If unhindered you could accomplish great things for the First Order and guide the galaxy to a new Empire more stable than any government body before it.”

“And what makes you think I am hindered?” Hux asked, if not a bit half-hearted. 

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed. “I understand my eyesight functions at a slightly different spectrum than yours, but I can still see the same bruises and cuts on your face as can the rest of the galaxy.”

Hux’s jaw tightened. The injury to his ego throbbing worse than the injuries to his neck.

Thrawn sat up slowly, a snake uncoiling, rising to his full height to peer mercilessly at the general. “ _ He _ will destroy the First Order from within, General Hux. Whether by neglect or personal influence, everything you have worked towards will crumble before your eyes, and the galaxy will once again be left lawless.”

Hux felt an icy chill seize him. This was dangerous thinking, even if he knew Ren was too far away to read his thoughts.

“And who is this clandestine infiltrator?” Hux asked, carefully. 

“You already know who it is.”

Hux regarded Thrawn silently.

None of this made sense.

“Is this some trick? Why did Ren send you?”

“I am here to advise the First Order, General Hux.” Thrawn replied, simply.

Annoyance flared within Hux and he was about to press Thrawn for a straight answer when it suddenly dawned on him what the former grand admiral was saying.

_ Or rather, what he is not saying.  _

Thrawn never once said that Ren had sent him. Hux had simply inferred it and Thrawn deigned to correct him.

Could it be that the chiss had shown up on his own accord?

_ “If unhindered you could accomplish great things for the First Order…” _

Hux threaded his fingers together, resting them over his chin, careful to stay away from the cut on his lip.

“I accept any and all wisdom you can bestow on me, Thrawn. And once we accomplish our goal, I will see to it that you will be given a rank appropriate to your abilities.”

Thrawn waved a dismissive hand. “I am not here for personal gain. Your success here shall be yours and yours alone. When it is done I shall return to my people. I will not have them living in fear of a volatile entity such as  _ he _ . Rather, I intend on a peaceful truce between the Unknown Regions and your First Order.”

Hux nodded. “Unlike the Emperor before me, I have no desire to go beyond our galaxy. You have my word.”

Thrawn smiled. “I know I do. That is why I chose you.”

Pride swelled within Hux’s chest. He lifted his chin as if the notion of Thrawn’s confidence in him raised it. There were very few in the galaxy who had such faith in him. Once it had been Grand Admiral Sloane, then it had been Snoke, if not for a short while. Compared to them, this validation breathed new life in the general. 

“I am ready to get started.”

“Excellent. We shall begin today, but first I shall resume unpacking. I have taken the liberty of moving into the empty quarters next to yours. Ren does not seem interested in returning to this ship it seems.”

Hux frowned. “No...he does not. You are welcome to any quarters you desire including his.” It was merely a formality, Thrawn seemed to have already made himself at home regardless. It was not a problem. Hux would give Thrawn his beloved greatcoat if it would help him win back the First Order.

“Thank you.” Thrawn inclined his head. “Now if you will excuse me.”

Hux rose as Thrawn stood, emotions running turbulent through his mind. On one hand, he was a general of the First Order, but on the other he was a small boy of five tugging at the grand admiral’s sleeve searching for approval.

“It is...good...to have you aboard, sir.” Hux said, unable to maintain the familiarity of saying Thrawn’s name.  

Thrawn did not correct him, and gave Hux a smile that felt reassuring and empowering.

“I look forward to what shall become of your First Order, General Hux. We shall accomplish great things together.”

By the time Hux had walked around the desk, Thrawn had already seen himself out.

Hux stood in the middle of the room, feeling as if the entire encounter had been some sort of fever dream.

But it wasn’t. Thrawn had truly been here...and he was going to help the First Order become the Empire Grand Moff Tarkin had envisioned aboard that Death Star so many years ago. 

Hux looked down at the chair that Thrawn had sat in…

_ A chair he will sit in again... _

Hux hesitated…

...then leaned down and pumped the lever to raise the chair by ten centimeters. 

And then he added four more.

Returning to his own throne, Hux pulled up the hundreds of messages he had been avoiding since Ren’s inauguration. 

Before answering the first of many questions, Hux reached out, and with a single, swift swipe, he knocked the gaudy sun off its cobalt stem. 

It shattered into a million glittering pieces on the glossy black tile floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr: [SneakyBunyip](http://sneakybunyip.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow me on twitter: [SneakyBunyip](https://twitter.com/sneakybunyip)


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